


What’s left unsaid

by missing_fawkes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Boys In Love, Castiel Has a Crush on Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Poetry, Two Person Love Triangle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:49:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missing_fawkes/pseuds/missing_fawkes
Summary: The more Cas thinks about Dean, the more he wishes he were the mysterious writer.It’s a stupid daydream and he knows it.Cas and the blue eyed boy from the poems have nothing in common but the color of their eyes and hair and Dean is simply not the type to write poems and even if he did, he would not write them about Castiel.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 107
Collections: Destiel Instagram One Shot Contest - November 2020





	What’s left unsaid

There's a notebook on the floor beside Cas' usual desk when he enters the library. Its light brown leather blends in perfectly with the dirty beige of the floor, so he doesn't notice it until he slumps down on his favorite seat in the corner of the room and unceremoniously drops his bag on the ground right next to it.  
Only when he reaches into his backpack, does it catch his eye.

The small journal looks old with its broken spine and stained leather cover that is soft underneath Cas’ fingertips, worn from use.  
It feels important.  
  
Cas picks the notebook up carefully, letting his fingers run over its surface.  
The act alone feels forbidden, like a massive invasion of privacy and he looks around guiltily as if anybody bearing witness could tell this notebook isn't his just from the way it lies in Cas' hands.  
Thankfully, there is no one there to judge but his consciousness when he gingerly opens the journal.  
Just to look for clues about its owner, he tells himself.  
  
The first page is empty.  
No name. No initials. Nothing.  
Chewing on his bottom lip, Cas contemplates whether or not to turn the page over.  
It could be private.  
It sure as hell seems private.  
  
But one quick glance can't hurt, right?  
After all, the content of the book could be entirely school related and maybe Cas is going to find notes or homework that will help him return the journal to its rightful owner.  
Or maybe it's full of little drawings someone made in a particularly boring class.  
Or maybe the next page will be as empty as the first one.  
  
He turns the notebook over in his hands, knowing that he's stalling.  
In the end, his curiosity gets the better of him and after one final look around, he flips onto the next page.

blue eyes  
watching me from across the room  
Do you see me?  
Or are you just here for the view?  


Cas blinks at the words in shock, reading them over once more.  
Of all the things he expected to find, poems never even crossed his mind.

They are not something that just lies around in a high school if it's unrelated to class and yet here he is, staring at pages covered in neat black letters.  
The handwriting looks vaguely familiar, Cas notes absentmindedly, but he's too distracted by the gravity of his find to try and place it.  
The guilt he was able to suppress for impressive two minutes, hits him like a punch in the gut.  
This is way too private for him to snoop through.  
Not a word in this book is meant for his eyes.  
It feels like he's carrying someone's beating vulnerable heart in his hands.  
The thought makes him wonder how someone can discard something so personal.  
How they can forget about it so easily.  
It is wrong to go further, he knows.  
  
And yet, he cannot stop himself from reading.

  
what wouldn't I give  
for your smile  
to be for me

  
The door to the library opens and a group of students walks in, talking animatedly.  
Despite the fact that they have not even noticed him yet, let alone know what he is reading, he can feel himself going bright red.  
With burning cheeks, he lets the notebook slip into his bag and pretends to focus on his schoolwork. 

  
Cas spends the next few days asking himself one question over and over again:

Who would write something like this?

He keeps scanning the faces of his fellow students in the hallways, wondering which one of them is the mysterious poet.  
He carries the notebook everywhere and even though guilt gnaws on him whenever he opens it, he is captivated by the words, by the story the stranger tells.

The notebook, as insignificant and unimpressive as seems from the outside, is no longer just a notebook to Cas.  
It is a glimpse into the soul of another boy and he treats it as such.

Whoever it belongs to has to be bright and honest and complex and beautiful.

Whoever it belongs to is as broken as the notebook's spine.  
Whoever it belongs to is capable of loving in a way that goes beyond anything Cas has ever known.  
Cas has never wanted to meet someone more.  
  
And yet, he is still not closer to finding him.  
All he could tell from the poems is that the stranger is a boy his age with green eyes who has a little brother, a resilient mother and no sense of self-worth.  
  
It's not a lot considering that almost every page is covered in ink, but most of the text is not about the writer but about another boy.  
  
A boy with bright blue eyes, dark tousled hair and a kind heart.  
A boy who is smart as a whip in one moment and dorky in the next.  
A boy who makes mistakes, but tries his hardest time and time again.  
A boy who can be commanding and fierce and passionate but is soft and caring most of the time.  
  
This other boy, Cas decides, is the only way to find the poet.  
Cas hates him a little bit but more than that he pities him.  
He is so loved by someone so wonderful and yet he's unable to see it, does not know that there is someone longing to be by his side.

  
if you knew  
how much you mean to me  
would you turn around

just once?

  
Cas is half tempted to play cupid.  
The boys seem to know each other, but they are not very close.

One too scared of being unworthy and the other too oblivious to notice.

It makes Cas wonder about his own life.  
If maybe there is someone he has overlooked.  
If there someone sitting behind him in class who desperately wants him to turn around. 

But that’s impossible, he sits in the back row in all of his classes except for literature and the person who sits behind him is Dean Winchester - a boy who is so far out of Cas’ league that it’s a miracle they breathe the same air. 

Under normal circumstances, Cas would love literature class, but with Dean in his immediate proximity, he has no chance to concentrate.  
It is absolutely impossible to listen to anything but Dean’s movements behind him: rummaging through his backpack or having whispered conversations with his classmates or the way he sometimes laugh to himself or jokes around or simply exists in a space that close to Castiel. 

They have spoken a total a 45 words this year - not that Cas is counting - and still Cas has been able to make an absolute fool of himself.  
His verbal filter is barely functional on good days but it’s nonexistent around Dean.  
The things he‘s blurted out still haunt him in his sleep and he simply hopes that Dean has forgotten them.  
Thankfully, he is not in the classroom yet, nobody is, it’s blessedly empty, giving Cas the opportunity to make plans on how to proceed further in his search for the poet.

The more Cas thinks about Dean, the more he wishes he were the mysterious writer.  
It’s a stupid daydream and he knows it.  
Cas and the blue eyed boy from the poems have nothing in common but the color of their eyes and hair and Dean is simply not the type to write poems and even if he did, he would not write them about Castiel. 

He is going to be realistic.  
Indulging in childish fantasies is a waste of time when there are two boys who clearly need a push in the right direction - towards each other.  
But what if it is Dean?, a traitorous voice asks. 

Cas worries his lip between his teeth and drums his fingers on the desk.  
He could always ask, he decides.  
It would be a great way of striking up a conversation with Dean without seeming to eager.  
If Dean really is the owner of the notebook, Cas could offer to help him talk to his crush.  
His heart aches a little at the thought of Dean with someone else, but he’s more than willing to ignore that in favor of possibly becoming friends with Dean. 

After all, that’s all Cas could ever be to him.  
There is just no way someone as confident and intelligent and beautiful as Dean Winchester would see Cas that way.  
They are polar opposites. 

When Dean is funny, Cas is too serious.  
When Dean is charming, Cas is awkward.  
He does not know how many times Dean has caught him staring from across the hallway.  
That’s probably another reason on the endless list of why they have not really spoken to each other.  
Cas is creepy when Dean is ...

His thoughts are interrupted by two fists slamming on his desk.  
Flinching away from the noise, Cas looks up, staring into panicked emerald eyes.

Dean Winchester leans over his desk, his nose almost touching Cas‘ and he is white as wall. 

“Where did you get this?”, he asks, voice barely more than a whisper, one hand reaching for the book. Cas notices the slight tremor in his fingers before they tightly close around the leather.  
“Never mind, it doesn’t matter,” Dean cuts him off before Cas can utter an explanation.

He starts pacing up and down the small space in front of Cas’ desk, rubbing the back of his neck, biting his lips until he suddenly comes to a halt and glances at Cas.  
“Did you read it?,” he asks through gritted teeth, sounding both defensive and scared.

“I did,” Cas answers truthfully and Dean staggers back as if he punched him.  
“I’m sorry,” Cas adds, because he doesn’t know what else to say.  
The silence stretches out between them, heavy and wrong, only broken by Dean’s sharp inhales.

“And?,” Dean asks after what feels like ages, a self-deprecating smile playing on his lips, “how pathetic do you think I am?”

He doesn’t look at Cas, just stares at his feet, shoulders hunched like he’s waiting for Cas to start laughing, to hurt him. 

As if he could.  
As if he hasn’t been affected, moved by Dean’s honesty, his words, the way he poured his heart onto the pages.  
As if he wouldn’t do anything in his power to offer Dean the happiness he doesn’t think he deserves. 

Uncertainty forgotten, Cas gets up, walks towards Dean. 

“I don’t think you’re pathetic,” he says sternly, “I believe you’re the exact opposite of pathetic. You are caring, selfless. You’re loving.  
And I knew that, all of that before being allowed that glimpse into your soul, just from seeing you interact with everyone around you.”

He takes another step forward, bringing them closer still, bridging the distance until there is almost no space between them anymore.  
Dean looks at him, eyes wide with shock, but Cas meets his gaze unwaveringly.  
He knows, he can’t have Dean, but he does not need to.  
The “I love you” sits on the top of his tongue but it would be too much, too soon and Dean already looks like a deer caught in headlights.  
Cas is distantly aware that he’s blatantly invading Dean’s personal space but the other boy is not moving away. 

“Don’t ever think of your feelings as pathetic,” Cas orders. Dean will probably never talk to him again after this - too weirded out to even be in the same room as Cas - but he needs to get his point across.  
“Don’t ever believe expressing yourself is a weakness.”

He stabs his pointer finger into Dean’s chest and watches him nervously licking his lips.  
Cas’ eyes follow the movement of Dean’s tongue and he’s momentarily distracted from his speech before he realizes what he’s doing and continues.

“And don’t ever doubt your worth. You are human, Dean. You are flawed. But the very things you despise yourself for are what makes you invaluable.”

Dean doesn’t answer and now that he has said his part, Cas ist starting to feel self-conscious again.  
Who does he think he is?  
They barely know each other and no matter how connected he feels to Dean, especially since discovering the notebook, the other boy does not share the sentiment.  
Not to forget about Dean’s crush on this literal angel Cas has yet to get to know.

He’s about to step back and apologize when Dean’s fingers curl around his wrist. 

“Cas,” he whispers, “can I kiss you?”  
“But what about your angel?,” Cas asks before he can stop himself.

Dean’s shoulder shake with silent laughter as he presses their foreheads together. 

“It’s you, you idiot. Who else would it be?”

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you might know that I am almost never on time when it comes to posting these One Shots.
> 
> Each month, I tell myself that I am going to start early and power through so that I finish on time and don’t have to stress about the deadline and this time I really was off to a great start. 
> 
> And then I realized (about 1300 words in) that what I was writing seemed somehow really familiar and noticed that I already have a story to the prompt I had chosen (Summer On You series). 
> 
> Anyway, I had to switch prompts and now here we are five hours before submission deadline, archive is failing me (as you may notice from the tags - or lack thereof), nothing is edited and all I have to offer you is bad poetry (which I was unable to get into italics) and dramatic love confessions most of which I wrote tonight instead of sleeping.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it nonetheless - because I sure had fun writing this 🥰 
> 
> (also please don’t take the poems to seriously, I had to improvise and this is as poetic as I can get)


End file.
